"The Wrestler" is punishing on several levels. It wraps up all the down(est)sides of everything from hero worship to commercialized body image to absentee fatherhood to nostalgia for the eighties (and the list goes on), while still getting viewers to care about what is happening to the characters (a point where that other Aronofsky adaptation, "Requiem for a Dream", largely failed, in my opinion). Mickey Rourke: yes. Marisa Tomei: yea, alright. Evan Rachel Wood: maybe not. The daughter storyline is to be expected. Of course this torn up old beast of a man fathered a child twentysome years ago (right?). But I feel like this aspect of the plot gets severely boiled down and serves (a little too exclusively) as an excuse for Randy to get to know the "Pam" side of "Cassidy". Which, cool, "we both have kids and shit, we both work in entertainment industries but are real people, look at us, we're real, but one of us definitely feels more real when we're working". And it's the super tan bleach blonde one. . . the man, the legend, the Ram. Cut to final RAM JAM. The End. I may have been too hard on "The Wrestler"'s narrative oomph, because immediately after I saw it, I watched "Goodfellas" for the first time, and of the two the latter stands out a bit more prominently in my mind. I still recommend the former, especially if you are into "walking in ____'s shoes" downers.
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